Their Glasses
by Full Worm Garden
Summary: This is the story of how America came to get glasses. Brotherly CanadaxAmerica.


**Based off of a headcanon I saw on tumblr and I thought it was just darling, so I had to write about it.**

**The cost of the glasses are a guess; I have no idea what normal things would cost, so I simply made a number up. The glasses back then (in the early 1700s) looked like thick Hairy Potter glasses, so just assume that Canada went through a metamorphosis with his glasses to the present day.**

**They aren't independent yet; they're in their teens. Country names are used, unless referring with humans.**

* * *

Canada surveyed the frames he had picked out for the third time. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of glasses, but if they were to improve his vision (which was mercilessly blurry), he would accept them as they were. He smiled in thought and handed them to England, who nodded to himself and gave it to the man who was selling. "That'll be 20 pound sterlings," he grumbled, taking the money in his shaky, old hand and dropping it into the old shoebox that sat atop the table. He shooed the three off, America and Canada trailing behind England who sat down in a nearby chair. The teenagers remained standing, and Canada was beckoned to his guardian, who slipped the glasses onto the shy boy's face.

Canada stood straight again, pushing them up his nose, and blinked a few times. "Do they work?" America inquired.

The boy nodded, and thanked England.

"I want you to wear those all the time," he instructed. "No exceptions."

Canada said nothing and nodded quickly.

England sighed through his nose and took a look at his tallest child. It was true he looked extremely different, but they were for his own benefit. They would be off soon; it was just a slight blur as Canada described, or what England remembered about the conversation anyway. "Well then, we better get you too back to your homes." He stood and turned to leave the market. They followed silently.

The three made their way over to the docks which contained the boats, and awaited their departure. The twins, however, let England stray far ahead of them, and America spoke under a normal voice to his brother. "Do they feel weird?"

"Yeah," Canada said, above a light whisper. He reached up to touch them again and adjust. "But my vision is better."

"That's good," America beamed and looked back out to the road. England was giving them a stern glare; he didn't like it when the two communicated without his permission or without him hearing.

The fifteen-year-olds stopped before their older brother and waited for instructions. Instead, England turned on his heel and continued to march forward, this time glancing off to make sure that the boys were still within earshot.

And their trip home began on the large wooden ship, and America found himself dosing off in the cabin. Lately, he had been noticing that England was turning into quite the tyrant. It was something he and his leaders were not too fond of. A tension between the two brothers went unnoticed by Britain, but America was certain of his hunch that this wasn't right; he needed more freedom.

He smiled in his sleep. Freedom. Such a beautiful word. And what a great world it would make, if everyone was free; free of the tyrant, free of the taxes, free of the spying eye in what England called friendly seas.

Canada shook his brother awake at the table. America tipped his flopping hat back up above his eyes and squinted in the sudden candle light. "What?"

"Do these make me look weird?" Canada asked, a little louder than before. When the two were alone, Canada felt he could be a little louder around his brother and bring his voice up to full par; as full par as it would ever be. He felt safe around America; not just because he was the older one, but because America was bolder and braver than Canada could even think of.

America pulled his crossed feet off the table and sat upright. "No way, they suit you just fine. England said that you'll only need 'em for a little while anyways. No worries, no worries."

Canada considered it for a moment before smiling shyly at his twin. "Thanks."

America nodded, turning his gaze to look at the wooden planks that made their bunk dry. He began to fall asleep again, wondering what he could do to persuade England to let his people have a little freedom, or at least let him take care of the taxing. Maybe one day.

XXX

America and Canada attended school like their citizens' children did. It was a long process, but the two realised they needed to know how to read and write. When they got back, however, a new surprise came with it.

Canada walked into his classroom and was immediately laughed at. He couldn't understand what it was, so he looked down at his shirt and pants to see if something had spilled, but there wasn't a single stain. His teacher was not as amused, but rather pointed at a seat and told the rest of the class to settle down.

Canada sat and flushed, wondering what the kids in front of him were staring at. "What are those things on your face?" one asked rudely. Canada flushed even deeper and his hands flew up to touch them.

"They're glasses, to help me see."

"You can't see?" The children broke into laughter again, drawing the attention of the teacher. "Boys, sit forward and practice cursive," the man ordered. They did so, but not without giving Canada one last smirk. The boy's lip trembled and he sunk further into his seat, wishing desperately for the day to be over.

But when they got outside, it was worse.

Lunch came, and they ate outside, like they did every day. Canada went to his usual tree that he sat alone under and took out his sandwich that his leader himself had packed him, but now kids were starting to swarm it. They were whispering and pointing and giggling, and Canada turned a beet red.

A kid shouted, "The reflection! He's got four eyes if you look right, eh!"

Canada abandoned his lunch in an instant and dashed out of the schoolyard past the cluster of kids to the south. Tears came as he ran, and he took off the glasses and put them in his pocket for an easier way at wiping at his eyes. He ran as fast as he could manage, through the weeds and on the dirt roads that led him to the school where America was currently attending somewhere in a place he called Connecticut. He had left his territory, but he didn't think he would be caught; but being a country was different than just sprinting to your older brother. Canada was suddenly out of Toronto and into Hartford; an advantage.

He continued to run until he saw a school that maybe contained his brother. And he was right; there was America, talking with almost everyone on the yard with his sandwich in his hand, blabbering on about something that was quite hysterical to the other children. Canada was nearly out of breath, but he managed to yell, "Am—" he stopped himself, and started again, "Alfred!"

America didn't notice at first, but then when the figure came closer, he straightened and set down his lunch hurriedly. He broke the ring of kids and met his brother in the street in front of the school. "Matthew!" he exclaimed at the teary-eyed twin of his. "What happened? What are you doing here?"

"Who's that?" the kids had gathered behind them now, still not brave enough to step out of the schoolyard's line.

America ignored them. "What happened to your glasses? Why are you crying?"

Canada stifled a sob. "The kids at my school were making fun of me for wearing them," he sniffed and pulled them out of his pocket to show him. "I don't want to wear them anymore."

"But you've got to," America said. "It's for your eyes, remember? You only have to wear them for a few weeks or so."

Canada shook his head and wiped his nose.

America sighed and smoothed out the wrinkles on his pants. "Okay, so…" he thought for a moment, but then looked back up at his brother. "What did they say?"

"That I had four eyes."

"What?" he shouted. "That doesn't even make sense!"

Canada was silent besides the occasional sniffle.

The kids behind him, much to Canada's relief, began to drift away.

"You know what? Don't worry about it," America said confidently. "I'll take care of it." He pulled his brother into a tight hug, making Canada feel better and safer in his brother's strong arms. He spoke again, "Just…how about you come and eat lunch with me? I don't think you'll want to return to your school."

Canada nodded and wiped at his face one more time. He followed America to the yard, and told the kids to leave them alone for a while. Everyone did, and the brothers ate without disruption for the remainder of lunch.

XXX

America and Canada saw each other every day. But what shocked Canada with the next visit was what his brother was wearing. A pair of spectacles, much like his own, sat on his face.

"America?" Canada questioned. "Why do you have glasses? Your eyesight is just fine!"

His brother smiled. "After you left yesterday, I went to a man who was selling them in town and told him I couldn't see."

"What?" Canada was flabbergasted. "Why? Like I said, your—"

"This way, people will make fun of me, too," he grinned widely. "This way, you won't be alone."

Canada was speechless. "B-but—"

"Think nothing of it; I don't want you to get made fun of again. People can make fun of me now."

After a moment of silence between them, Canada smiled shyly and reached out to hug his twin. "Thank you," he whispered, as America hugged him back.

"Don't mention it."

XXX

Ever since then, America had failed his eye exams on purpose. During the revolutionary war, he had taken them off, but saw Canada before he went into battle. They couldn't speak; they were too far away. But America smiled and saluted to his brother before he walked off with George Washington to fight. Canada couldn't believe it; his brother was going to do it. He was going to win. Fight back. Become independent.

Later on, Canada declared his independence too when he had worked up the courage. There was no war, which surprised him, but he was more than thankful to be free. And through the years, Canada's glasses stayed, but America's did too. Only because he failed the test.

He failed for his brother.

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**This probably shouldn't have been made at 2:30 in the morning. But it was just too touching when I saw it on my dashboard, so I had to do something.**

**This isn't entirely accurate with history. *bows***

**I don't own shit, thanks. If I did, there would be a lot of hell on earth.**


End file.
